Robert Davis lost two homes in the floodwaters of Katrina — and just two weeks after the storm, he was videotaped being beaten by police. He was forced to leave his beloved city of New Orleans.

“We lost two homes; one was my wife’s mother’s house — at the time that Katrina hit we were renting it out. We lost everything,” Davis, 75, told NBC News. “They were torn down. They were not rebuildable. ...We had only the clothes on our back when we came to Atlanta.”

Robert Davis, 64, a retired teacher whose beating by police on Bourbon Street on Oct. 8, 2005, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was caught on videotape, arrives at court to testify behind closed doors before a state grand jury in New Orleans on Wednesday March 29, 2006.ALEX BRANDON / AP file

The retired teacher received national attention when images of him being beaten by New Orleans police officers made headlines in October 2005.

Davis' immediate family fled the storm before it made landfall. They stayed in Georgia with relatives and, when the extent of the damage in New Orleans was clear, decided to settle down in the Atlanta suburb of Johns Creek.

Davis returned to New Orleans that October to deal with insurance company claims for the two houses his family lost in the storm. On Oct. 8, while he was out looking for a cigarette, he was arrested for alleged public intoxication — even though, as he later told news organizations, "I haven't had a drink in 25 years."

“The city is nothing like it was when we left. It’s worse now,” Davis said. “The Lower Ninth Ward — there’s nothing there now. They have a brand new school there, but there are no people living there.”

Schmolke knew how important Lakeview was to his wife. In her honor, he returned to the community with his son, determined to rebuild his four-bedroom home with his own two hands.

“My situation is a little tougher than everybody else’s because I didn't just lose my house,” Schmolke had told NBC News. “If we can pick up the pieces and keep moving on, I think everybody can do that, too.”

His neighborhood of nearly 10,000 had become a veritable ghost town. But he was resilient and kept working. And by Thanksgiving of that year, the home was completed.

But about five years ago, Schmolke let go of the dream of recreating his life in Lakeview. With his son, he moved north to a rural lakeside community outside of Charlotte, North Carolina. He had no connections there, but was determined to set down roots and continue his career in construction.

“I tried to stick it out for a while,” Schmolke said recently about staying in New Orleans, where he had lived for more than 40 years.

“I actually tried to hold on to the dream. I went back and gave it my best effort,” he added. “But I got beat down by that community and the people in that city, the politicians. They’re not going to let you succeed either. You can’t succeed there.”

He even remembers the exact moment he knew he would leave the Big Easy — when then-Mayor Ray Nagin, heavily criticized for his response during Katrina, won re-election in 2006.

Darren and Amber Schmolke, with children Eli, 3, and Luke, 11.Darren Schmolke

“I was in disbelief that he would get another shot at mayor,” Schmolke said, “but more importantly, it let me know that the community I was protecting and rebuilding just didn't want to better itself.”

In his new life in North Carolina, Schmolke has found a place in which he can take pride. He got remarried to a woman named Amber, whom he met in New Orleans, and the couple shares a 3-year-old son, Eli.

His oldest son, 11-year-old Luke, is thriving — something he’s not sure he would have been able to say if the family remained in New Orleans.

Schmolke said: “It really makes you realize that there’s a better life that you could have been living a long time ago.”

But this time, neither the home nor the majority of Waveland, population 6,600, could withstand the force of nature. The tiny downtown was leveled. The Smolenskys lost everything in the waters. But for Jane, abandoning the home wasn’t an option.

“There was no sense in bringing that up,” recalled Louie, 73, a former Waveland alderman. “I knew she wouldn’t leave, so we stayed.”

The Smolenskys got a state grant to rebuild. Jane, who had worked as a secretary for General Electric, was at the helm as family members shoveled out the residual muck, demolished walls, hung sheetrock and hammered in nails. A photo from the time shows Jane removing a door frame, her hands strong and steady.

But as the family learned to start over, they were met with another round of devastating news in January 2007: Jane was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Later, during her recovery, doctors discovered she had dementia.

Neither Katrina, nor the cancer, could take away her upbeat attitude. In other photos over the years, she opens Christmas presents with her husband, whips up meals in the showroom-sized kitchen for her family and stands proudly at her daughter’s college induction.

Jane Smolensky at her Waveland, Mississippi, home on Nov. 12, 2005.Susan Ferry

In later photos, she is frail and in a wheelchair. But her trademark smile still sparkles.

Last September, Jane died peacefully in the place that mattered most to her — her home. She was 67. It was a day after Louie's birthday. Louie says he wishes they had more time to appreciate what was rebuilt before her health declined.

“I’m glad that the city has been able to come back. The only thing I regret is that my wife’s not here,” he said. “This was her home. Katrina only made her fight harder for it.”

Erik Ortiz

Erik Ortiz is a staff writer for NBC News focusing on racial injustice and social inequality.